


birthday greetings, bottle of wine

by fiveaces



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-17
Updated: 2018-06-17
Packaged: 2019-05-24 13:49:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14955828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fiveaces/pseuds/fiveaces
Summary: Tommy lets out a whine, moves so he’s hiding his face in Alfie’s chest instead, wanting to be closer but refusing to look up at the other man. He’s always needy after sex, cuddlier than he is in any other given time. Alfie lets out a pleased laugh, hands stroking the length of Tommy’s spine. “Youareshy,” he points out gleefully, and Tommy scowls.





	birthday greetings, bottle of wine

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little snippet that I'd written some time ago. Hope you enjoy! (Not set in the 'about as bashful as a tribal dance' verse).
> 
> Title comes from The Beatles "When I'm Sixty-Four"

“You’re beautiful,” Alfie tells him one day. Tommy glares at him, huffing and turning away. “What? It’s true, you know.”

“But you don’t have to say it,” Tommy says, and he scoots further away when Alfie draws near. The teacups rattle in their saucers and Tommy glowers, gets up from his comfortable position on the chair and makes his way to the door. Alfie follows.

“I don’t understand,” Alfie frowns, finally cornering Tommy. The latter’s pressed in between the door and Alfie’s chest. “I thought people liked being complimented about their looks.”

“Wrong,” Tommy snaps back, and he ducks his head to hide a blush. It doesn’t work, though, because Alfie catches it and beams. 

“Right,” he says, smug, and he brings a hand to cup the curve of Tommy’s cheek, thumb tracing the line of his cheek bone. “You’re just shy.”

“Wrong again,” Tommy huffs, blushing proper this time. His face feels like it’s on fire, and he’s sure he looks like a right sight, tomato-red and trembling. “Typical Solomons.”

Alfie doesn’t argue, lets out a pleased laugh instead, head ducking down to press a kiss to the tip of Tommy’s nose. “Yes, love, typical me.”

“You’re terrible,” Tommy informs him, turning his head and capturing Alfie’s wayward lips in a slow kiss. He pulls back, eyes big and blue. “A monster. I don’t know why I put up with you.”

“You must have your work cut out for you,” Alfie agrees, fond smile still in place as his hands come to rest on Tommy’s hips. He gives them a squeeze, ducks his head down to mouth at the soft skin behind Tommy’s ear. The latter lets out a little whimper, hand coming up to cradle the back of Alfie’s head, fingers threading through soft hair. “Really, darling, we must appreciate your efforts properly.”

“Yes,” Tommy hums, all thoughts about being upset at Alfie vanishing from his head when he’s lifted up in strong arms. He thinks about telling Alfie that they can just do it in the kitchen, nevermind who walks in, but decides that the bedroom is fine. More privacy and all that. Besides, this time Arthur won’t be screaming his bloody head off when he rudely interrupts by walking in or anything of that sort. “Bedroom, now.”

“Anything you say, sweetheart,” Alfie beams, carrying him up the stairs. They have to pull apart for that, and Tommy makes up for the lack of kissing by tucking his head into the crook of Alfie’s neck, lips pressed against warm skin. 

“Good,” Tommy says, and decides that he oughtn’t say anything else, lest something silly comes out of his mouth, like _I love you_ or _I think you’re quite good looking yourself_.

///

Later, Tommy stretches on the bed languidly, well-fucked and pleasantly sore all over. His hair’s in disarray, and there’s bruises all over: on the column of his neck, the breadth of his chest, the vee of his hips and the insides of his thighs. Alfie really went all out this time, and when Tommy turns to comment on that, he stops, words catching in his throat. Alfie looks at him, mouth swollen and stretched into a happy smile, something soft shining in those eyes of his and Tommy buries his face into the nearest pillow, trying to avoid the tenderness of that gaze. 

“You’re beautiful,” Alfie whispers, and he presses a kiss to the curve of Tommy’s shoulder. Tommy lets out a whine, moves so he’s hiding his face in Alfie’s chest instead, wanting to be closer but refusing to look up at the other man. He’s always needy after sex, cuddlier than he is in any other given time. Alfie lets out a pleased laugh, hands stroking the length of Tommy’s spine. “You _are_ shy,” he points out gleefully, and Tommy scowls.

“Go to sleep, Solomons,” he grumbles, and Alfie teases him some more before giving up when Tommy refuses to budge from his position on his chest. The hands keep on stroking, though, and Tommy’s scowl eventually smooths out. He peeks up from where he’s hiding, and notices that Alfie’s eyes are closed, breathing slowing down. 

When he’s sure that Alfie’s properly asleep, Tommy wriggles up so that they’re face to face. The afternoon sunshine coming in through the window gives ample light for Tommy to observe Alfie’s features. He’s got high cheekbones, hidden by the beard, and Tommy traces them with curious fingers. Other parts are traced, too, the slope of Alfie’s nose and the curves of his lips, plush against the pads of Tommy’s fingertips. Just as he’s going about outlining his eyebrows, Alfie shifts, muttering a bit before encircling Tommy in his arms, pressing him closer so that Tommy’s inches away from the slow fan of Alfie’s lashes.

Alfie’s got brilliant eyes, Tommy thinks dazedly, but they’re closed right now so all he can do is press a kiss to each of the eyelids and mumble “I think you’re beautiful, too.”

There’s a beat of silence and a slow smile stretches across Alfie’s lips. His eyes open to reveal that hard to place color, and he meets Tommy’s stare head on. “Thanks, love.”

Tommy stares wide eyed for a moment, mouth open in disbelief before he squawks and hits Alfie’s laughing face with a pillow.


End file.
